


With Teammates Like These, Who Needs Friends?

by mooksie01



Series: With Teammates Like These, Who Needs Friends? [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: (They Just Don't Know It Yet), Ace Ops - Freeform, Actual Mess Clover Ebi, Angst and Humor, Bad Military Lingo, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gratuitous Bullying of Teammates, Humor, Light Angst, Luckbirds, Lucky Charms, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Pining, Qrowver, Secret Gay Disaster Clover Ebi, Spoilers: Volume 7 (RWBY), Team as Family, Volume 7 (RWBY), clover is absolutely an undercover pottymouth, elm and clover are best friends i don't make the rules, fair game, i'll add more tags (and more accurate tags) as i think of them, leave poor clover alone he is only a moron in love, they have too many ship names, warning for slight spiciness in chapter two, we really out here EARNING that teen rating, you thought he was smooth and slick? you fool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-24 21:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22164790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mooksie01/pseuds/mooksie01
Summary: Clover doesn't care what the other Ace Ops have to say, he absolutely does NOT have a crush on Huntsman Branwen. He just admires his skill on the battlefield. And the visible results of his obviously-excellent training regiment. And his gorgeous eyes. And his mysterious demeanor. And voice.Okay, Clover might have just a little bit of a crush on Huntsman Branwen, but that doesn't matter, because if the other Ace Ops are going to tease him relentlessly for it, then he just won't pursue any relationship with the guy!...Maybe.(AKA, I come out of my four-year-long writing hiatus to deliver this first installment in a series that will revolve around the Ace Ops growing closer with one another and (in some cases, reluctantly) supporting their leader's pursuit of a dusty old crow.)
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Series: With Teammates Like These, Who Needs Friends? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1595410
Comments: 182
Kudos: 416





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so... I haven't really written for fun in over four years. Which. Is pretty crazy to think about. But my New Year's Resolution this year is to get back into it because it used to make me really happy. With that said, I'm pretty rusty nowadays, so I'm sorry if any of this reads a little awkwardly. I'm hoping to get back to the level I used to be at with some practice, but I know it'll take time. This fic is mainly my effort at shaking the dust off with my current favorite show and favorite ship.
> 
> FAIR GAME RIGHTS!
> 
> Hope you all enjoy! Please leave kudos and comments if you have the time to do so, I'd really appreciate some encouragement while I get back into the swing of things!

Clover can’t say that he isn’t expecting it, but even he is a little taken by surprise when, only mere seconds after closing the door to the Ace Ops’ commons, a heavy hand lands on his shoulder and spins him around with enough force to make him dizzy. 

Elm’s ecstatic face immediately fills his entire field of vision. 

Oh, Brothers.

“Clover!” 

He attempts to wave her off, feeling his face grow hot. “I’m trying to head to bed, Elm. Gotta be up bright and early tomorrow, you know.” 

Her shit-eating grin only grows larger. Her vice-grip tightens. He will not be escaping any time soon. His death warrant is signed and hidden somewhere in the mess that Elm calls her quarters. 

Elm manhandles him to the couch and shoves him down to sit, then flops down next to him and tosses her wrapped feet onto the coffee table. 

He wrinkles his nose. “Elm, please. I’ve talked to you about your feet and the table.” 

Ignoring him (as she so often does) Elm simply continues to grin smugly at him. “Who would’ve thought?! Our very own captain!” 

Clover rolls his eyes in what he hopes to be a clear sign of his exasperation. 

“Elm, what are you even talking about?” Marrow pipes up from where he is leaning against the wall. His arms are crossed over his chest in a deliberate attempt to appear uninterested, though his faintly wagging tail gives him away. Clover hadn’t even noticed him until he’d spoken. 

Looking around, he realizes that all of his subordinates are standing about the room, watching the interaction with varying degrees of interest. Just great. He considers whether or not it would be worth it to attempt to preemptively write Elm up for not-yet-conducted insubordination. 

Hm. He probably isn’t allowed to do that.

He startles as Elm yanks her feet off the table next to him, instead throwing herself forward so she can bang her fist against the helpless furniture to punctuate her next statement, “Our captain has a  _ crush  _ on Huntsman Branwen!” 

“Elm,” Harriet sighs, “stop being an idiot. Again. You know that he--” 

Clover pulls himself away from Elm and her interrogation couch. He stands up, straight-backed, falling into a parade rest that has his shoulders held just a little too tightly to his ears, positive that his face is red. “That’s enough,” he orders, voice as firm as he can make it, “what I do is none of your concern, Elm. Nor anyone else’s. This conversation is… unprofessional, to say the least. And it’s over.” 

Rather than be appropriately cowed by his scolding, Elm only flashes him an even bigger smile. On the other side of the room, Harriet makes a choking sound and starts to sputter, “Holy  _ shit,  _ you  _ are _ \--!”

Elm jumps to her feet, swinging a muscular arm over his shoulders. “I think you mean ‘ _ who _ you do,’ Captain!” 

Clover shrugs her off, scowling. “ _ Elm! _ ” His mind races, attempting to formulate a way to escape this horrible situation, but it seems that no amount of luck is getting him out of this one.

“Well,” Vine rubs speculatively at his chin, finally deciding to contribute something to this dumpster-fire of a conversation, and Clover makes the split-second mistake of hoping that he will be the voice of reason to shut the whole thing down, “you can hardly  _ blame _ our captain. Huntsman Branwen is, objectively, quite conventionally attractive. Not to mention his skill-level and renown in the field and all of the good he has done in the ongoing battle against Salem….” 

Clover feels his soul die a little.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Marrow throws his hands up in the air, his tail raised in visible agitation. “What are we, a buncha kids? You’ve known the guy for five minutes!” 

Elm laughs uproariously, “And he  _ stared  _ at Huntsman Branwen for all five! Not to mention the extra twenty seconds when he was watching him  _ walk away _ !” 

Harriet gags. She looks incredibly annoyed and vaguely disgusted at this turn of events.

“That really is  _ enough _ \--!” Clover tries.

“Really?” Vine tilts his head, coming a few steps closer. He peers at Clover in a speculative manner. “It seems to me that it would be difficult to catch a glimpse of Huntsman Branwen’s posterior, considering that the cape he wears covers it quite effectively. Are you sure, Elm, that that is what Clover was doing?” 

“Haha!” Elm raises her hand for a high-five, which her partner passively returns.

Clover is sure his skin-tone must faintly resemble that of the Atlas Academy mess hall’s tomato soup by now. He had  _ not  _ been staring at Huntsman Branwen’s ass. Even if he  _ were  _ interested in Qrow Branwen like that, he’s too much of a gentleman to do such a thing. Besides, there were plenty of  _ other  _ attractive aspects of Huntsman Branwen to focus on without having to drool over his “posterior” like some sort of mangy grimm. Like his soft vermillion eyes; or his trim waist; or his hair, which looked like the shining feathers of his namesake; or his elegant hands, undoubtedly calloused from so many years of handling his weapon so skillfully…. He swallows hard and feels his face flare up anew as he realizes what train of thought he’d been taking. 

Looking up, he catches Elm smirking at him again. Marrow and Harriet have near-matching expressions of distaste. Vine is merely studying him with even more interest than before.

He opens his mouth to retaliate, only for Vine to cut him off, clasping his hands behind his back in a move so prim that it leaves Clover completely unprepared for what he says next: “I believe our captain was just lost in thought about Huntsman Branwen’s posterior again.” 

Clover coughs hard, choking on his own spit. Vaguely, he registers the sound of Elm exploding into further laughter at his expense. 

“Oh, ew, ew,  _ ew _ !” Marrow covers his ears, baring his teeth at Vine and Elm and probably also Clover. 

Harriet simply glowers at all of them, “I did  _ not  _ need to know that.”

After a moment, Clover pulls himself together. He glares at his attackers, “ _ Elm _ ,” he snarls, “ _ Vine _ .” 

Vine takes an even step back, cocking his head inquisitively, “I apologize, did I say something incorrect?”

Elm loops her bicep around her partner’s neck in a pseudo-chokehold that he makes no attempt to remove himself from. “No, Vine, but I believe that’s  _ our  _ cue to leave!” She extricates herself from him and once again brings her hand down hard on Clover’s shoulder, having apparently never learned that it isn’t wise to poke an angry bear. “Don’t worry, boss, I’ll make sure to keep an extra eye out for your little bird!” She winks and pats him a few times with enough force to jolt his entire upper torso. “Though I’m sure  _ you’ll  _ already have that handled!” 

Then, in a blink, she has removed herself from the room, Vine following behind her at a more sedate pace. 

They are going to be facing  _ so  _ much disciplinary action, Clover thinks furiously. They will be scrubbing the floors for  _ months _ . He turns to face Harriet and Marrow, who are somehow still in the room, staring at him. He crosses his arms firmly over his chest, “Do either of  _ you  _ have something to add?”

Marrow merely shakes his head and turns tail to leave. 

Harriet looks him over for a moment longer, then makes a sharp  _ tsk _ ’ing sound with her tongue. “ _ Gross _ .”

She spins on her heel and walks down the hallway that leads to each of their personal rooms.

Clover sighs heavily and plops back down on the couch. It is going to be a  _ long _ however-many-months with Huntsman Branwen and his students here. 

Still, he can certainly make it easier on himself by avoiding working with the other man. Even if he  _ is  _ incredibly attractive….

(No!  _ Bad  _ Clover!)

Everything will go over much more smoothly if he just isn’t seen staring at or talking to or even vaguely thinking about Huntsman Branwen from here on out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clover is screwed. 
> 
> There are three points of evidence that definitively back this conclusion:  
>  1\. The other Ace Ops are never going to leave him alone about his so-called "crush" on Huntsman Branwen  
>  2\. He has somehow already upset said huntsman in their first real interaction with each other  
>  3\. He has been partnered up with the twice-aforementioned upset huntsman for a mission into the abandoned SDC dust mines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I cannot BELIEVE how positive of a reception this story has received from you all. I could not be more grateful to all of you who have read the first chapter and left comments and kudos--you're all absolutely amazing. 
> 
> With that said, the positive reception has definitely motivated me to post daily until this first part has finished up, so here's the second chapter! 
> 
> As I told some very nice folks in the comments, chapters 2-4 of this story will focus a lot more on Fair Game, then chapter 5 will transition back to some Ace Ops interaction that will set up for future installments of this series. I hope you all enjoy! 
> 
> Please leave comments/kudos if you're able! I love you all!

Clover is thinking about Huntsman Branwen and he is  _ fucked _ .

“Clover.” General Ironwood gives him an odd look. 

The near-hysterical vestiges of his functional mind wonder at the tinge of concern in the address.

“Clover? Did you hear me?”

“Yes, sir.” Clover replies, on autopilot.

He’s screwed, he’s fucked, he will  _ never _ hear the end of this from the rest of the Ace Ops and he is  _ fucked _ six ways to Sunday.

General Ironwood watches him for a long moment before turning back to the papers he holds in his hands. Normally,  _ Clover  _ would plan out these smaller missions, but seeing as how this was the first one that would combine the Ace Ops with Huntsman Branwen and his team, and as this mission was so vital to the plans for the Amity communications tower, General Ironwood had personally seen to the arrangement of the troops. After their meeting is through, it Clover’s job will just be to pass on this information to everyone and insure that the operation runs smoothly. Which is why he really needs to stop being so distracted by his  _ impending doom _ and focus.

“Yes, well… as I said, Clover, you’ll be working with Qrow today.” General Ironwood glances up at him again, making brief eye contact before shifting his focus back down. “I can see that you’re worried about him, but I can assure you that he’s a perfectly able huntsman.”

“I have no doubts about that, sir. I’ve seen his record,” Clover hurries to put in, concerned that the general will believe him to be unable to work competently just because of a minor team reassignment. 

_ ( _ Is _ he going to be able to work competently?) _

“Then what--” General Ironwood stops and narrows his eyes. For a heart-stopping moment, Clover worries that he has been somehow caught-out in his ( _ non- _ )attraction to Huntsman Branwen. Instead, though, the general simply sighs, “Has Winter been bad-mouthing him to people again? I’ve told her time and again that that sort of behavior is extremely unprofessional….” 

Clover shakes his head hurriedly. He may want to save face, but he isn’t willing to get Winter in trouble to do so. She’s a good soldier. “No, sir. I apologize, I have no issues with the mission assignments. I just didn’t sleep well last night.” 

Which. Isn’t  _ technically _ untrue. It’s just that the  _ reason _ he hadn’t slept well last night had been because his dreams had been plagued with gorgeous, dancing red eyes and high cheekbones and alabaster skin that he was sure would bruise  _ so easily  _ if met with the proper treatment....

Holy shit, he’s about to have a  _ problem  _ in the middle of his briefing with his commanding officer; Marrow was right, he’s acting like a  _ teenager _ . He’s in his mid-thirties, this should not be a problem for him anymore!

General Ironwood still doesn’t seem entirely pleased with his response, but after a few seconds, he gives Clover a final, firm nod. “Alright. Dismissed.”

Clover nods back then stands and hightails it out of the general’s office before anything else can go wrong. 

Isn’t he supposed to have  _ good _ luck?

Apparently not, as, within moments of leaving ( _ not _ fleeing!) the room, he quite literally runs straight into Huntsman Branwen as he’s turning a corner. 

They collide hard, and Huntsman Branwen likely would’ve been sent to the ground if not for Clover quickly reaching out to grab him around the waist and haul him up. Of course, this causes them to be… very close for just a moment, and the faint heat radiating off the other man’s body is just a little bit intoxicating, and Clover just hopes that Huntsman Branwen can’t see the flush on his face. 

Huntsman Brawen pulls away and takes a step back, reaching up with one hand to rub at the back of his neck in a move that Clover would call  _ sheepish _ if not for the fact that he can’t imagine the man before him as ever being shy or embarrassed; Huntsman Branwen is practically a  _ legend  _ in their circles. The most skilled scythe-wielder in Remnant, some say. A member of the once-renowned Team STRQ, which was still only the second team in history to win the Vytal Festival Tournament twice consecutively (and considering that the first team to do so had been mysteriously stripped of its titles later on, he isn’t sure that it counts anymore). 

Still, the faint redness spreading across Huntsman Branwen’s cheeks seemed to suggest otherwise. 

“Shit, sorry,” Huntsman Branwen mutters, pulling Clover out of his musings. And  _ Brothers _ , his  _ voice _ . “Wasn’t really looking where I was going…. Didn’t mean to run into you.” He has a thick Mistrali accent, and his quality of voice is unexpectedly rough. Clover is pretty sure that he can  _ feel  _ his higher brain functions melting into goo. 

Clover isn’t blind and he isn’t deaf. He knows an exceptionally attractive man when he sees one, and if it weren’t for the fact that his team would tear him to shreds (and that he isn’t sure what the general would think if he got  _ involved  _ with Huntsman Branwen), he absolutely would have already started to pursue some sort of connection with the other man. As it is, though, he doesn’t think he could deal with the mockery that would come from encouraging his “crush,” as Elm would say, on Huntsman Branwen, so it’s probably for the best that he avoid doing so. 

Resolved, Clover straightens to his full height, causing Huntsman Branwen to have to look up a little to meet his eyes. His chest squeezes. “It’s perfectly alright, Huntsman Branwen. The blame is at least partly mine; I should have been paying more attention.” 

The other man cocks an eyebrow at him and folds his arms across his chest. Clover makes a very valiant effort at not looking at the way his biceps flex and stretch the material of his new clothes (which are… extremely flattering, to say the least). “‘Huntsman Branwen’? Atlas and its titles…. Just call me Qrow. The other thing just sounds weird.” He moves one hand down to rest against his hip and lets the other hang loose at his side. “And you’re Clover, right? One of Jimmy’s Special Operatives?” He tilts his head, birdlike. 

Clover’s breath catches for a second at the way that his name sounds coming from Huntsman-- _ Qrow’s _ \--lips. He thinks that he’d be wheezing if he weren’t trying so hard to be as in-control as ever. 

_ Please, Brothers, let this man be into men. _

He crushes the errant thought as though it were a Sentinel, with the same cut-throat efficiency.

“That’s right,” he crosses his own arms and thrills a little at the way Qrow’s gaze bounces down and lingers for a second too long before returning to his face. “You’re in luck,” he says, going for humorous, but apparently failing, if the way Qrow’s slight smirk dips is anything to go by, “General Ironwood wants us to pair up together for today’s mission. Maybe it’s a good thing we bumped into each other beforehand.”

Qrow looks away, a full-on frown tugging at his ( _ gorgeous _ ) lips, now. Clover internally panics. What did he say? “Luck, huh?” Qrow scans Clover up and down, his face falling a little more. “Is that what… all of  _ this _ is about?” He gestures expansively at Clover as a whole, and there’s a note of hurt in his voice that Clover can’t quite puzzle out, but before he’s able to voice his concern, Elm appears at the end of the hall. 

Normally, Clover would be happy to see her. Right now, he is tempted to wring her neck. Not that he could, probably--she is both taller and objectively stronger than he is--but it’s a therapeutic thought, even if he is ashamed by it. 

She looks back and forth between them for a moment, a wide grin quickly spreading across her features. Clover barely resists the urge to groan. “ _ Clover _ ,” she practically sings, “you and  _ Huntsman Branwen _ are needed in the mission briefing room! Two of those kids are already waiting there for you!” She walks away, snickering. Her heavy footfalls echo long after she’s out of sight. 

Qrow gives him one last glance before turning and hurrying away, his tattered red cape fluttering behind him. 

And Clover stands alone in an empty hallway, wondering what the  _ hell  _ just happened, listening to the quickly-receding sound of Qrow’s footsteps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there we go! Clover is a mess, and honestly? Relatable. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and I'll see you again tomorrow for the next one! <3
> 
> (Also, side-note, I may or may not have written a small story that centers around the rare-pair to end all rare-pairs: Clover/Qrow/Elm. Would anyone be interested in reading that if I posted it?)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An airship ride before a search-and-destroy mission isn't exactly an ideal first date....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I know it's a little later in the day than I normally post, but here's chapter three! I hope you all enjoy it! 
> 
> I can't begin to thank you all enough for all of your support and kindness, you really remind me of why I used to love writing and posting fanfic so much <3
> 
> Just as a note, this one is more of a short filler chapter to set up the next one, which will be longer. I hope you like it nonetheless!

The ride to the mines is… tense, to say the least. 

They sit across from one another on the benches built into the walls of their transport while they wait to get to their drop-off point. Qrow is hunched over a little, elbows resting on his knees and head tilted downward, closed-off in a way that is likely meant to discourage conversation.

Qrow still won’t really look him in the eyes, and Clover still has  _ no idea _ what he said or how to go about fixing it. It’s an unfamiliar emotion for him. Usually, he finds  _ fixing _ to be an exceptionally easy pastime, and one that comes naturally to him. It’s what makes him a good leader.

But they have hardly exchanged a word since they’d spoken a few hours earlier, when Clover had apparently upset the other man. Which won’t do--and not just because Clover wants Qrow to like him, but because it’s detrimental for conflict to be hanging over a partnership on the battlefield. 

And (although Clover tries hard not to admit it to himself) it might also be because he imagines that Qrow would have a  _ very  _ nice smile if he could only coax it out of him. 

Clover pulls his knee up onto the bench beside him and leans on it in a way that he  _ desperately  _ hopes comes across as casual. He tries to make his voice as confident and relaxed as possible when he addresses the man across from him, “I sincerely apologize if something I said or did earlier offended you in any way. I can assure you that that was never my intention.” 

Qrow looks up at him, and the light coming in through the front windshield of the transport catches his eyes and makes them glow, luminescent, like the sunrise. 

Clover is going to  _ die _ before this mission is over. Forget the rest of the Ace Ops, he is going to drop dead because he is positive that mortal eyes were never meant to take in such beauty. 

Qrow sighs softly, “It’s fine. I mean,” he pauses to give Clover a wry smile that only serves to baffle him further, “I can hardly blame you, can I? I’m just being dramatic.” 

That… did not help Clover figure  _ anything _ out. Disregarding anything else, he isn’t even going to be able to be  _ partners  _ with this guy if he can’t figure out what the hell he did wrong. 

His brows knit together in confusion, “I’m sorry, I--”

A cool, automated voice comes over the airship speakers before he can finish his thought: “Approaching drop-off location. Please prepare for drop-off.” 

Qrow graces him with one last sardonic smile, then hefts himself off the bench and offers Clover a hand. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. It’s fine.” 

Clover still isn’t really sure what’s going on, but he allows Qrow to pull him to his feet.

_ Brothers, but he has nice hands _ . 

It is more of a struggle than Clover would ever admit to to let go, but he manages. 

They stand on opposite sides of the airship, each preparing to jump out when the doors open. 

“I’ll, uh…” Clover glances over his shoulder at the sound of Qrow’s voice, but the other man isn’t looking at him, instead choosing to stare resolutely out the window, “I’ll see you down there, I guess.” 

The doors slide open. Qrow jumps without a second’s hesitation, and it takes Clover a little longer than it probably should to realize that he should  _ also  _ jump before he misses his drop-off, too preoccupied by his staring and all of the suddenly-blaring sirens and flashing lights in his mind.

The potential mockery from his fellow Ace Ops is becoming less and less of an effective deterrent, he thinks, and jumps. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, just a little one today! The chapter for tomorrow will be much longer, promise! 
> 
> Still, if you enjoyed, please leave kudos and comments if you have time! I really appreciate all of you who have been <3
> 
> (Also, I will be posting that Clover/Qrow/Elm story on Saturday or Sunday of this week; I've been so surprised by all of the interest!)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turns out that the only thing worse than a tense first date in an airship... is an awkward first date in a haunted dust mine.
> 
> Or: In which Clover feels like a moron, Elm causes problems, and nobody knows how to deal with a crush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter today to make up for the short one yesterday! I hope you all enjoy! 
> 
> Please leave kudos / comments if you like this chapter, and thank you so much to all of you who have been! Your support means the world!
> 
> (Just to preface, I haven't edited this chapter as thoroughly as I usually do, as I'm currently in the process of packing to go back to college tomorrow. I might come back later and give it another run-over when I have time, but for now, I'm sorry if there are any major mistakes or awkward spots in the chapter!)

Walking through the abandoned dust mines with Qrow, Clover can’t help but be… a little distracted. 

Up until now, Clover had only ever seen the other man move in a manner so instinctively disconnected and introverted that he’d just assumed that that was how Qrow always was. Now, though, he sees that he was wrong before; beside him, Qrow marches forward, back straight, shoulders carefully held lax in preparation for any possible conflict, head high, and eyes shining with a startling clarity and determination that takes Clover’s breath away. 

In short, he’s a vision and it’s a herculean task not to stare. 

Still, Clover is a soldier first and foremost, and he doesn’t allow himself to be sucked in so much that he might lose focus on the mission. 

After a few long moments punctuated by nothing but his team’s routine check-ins, Qrow speaks up, “Gotta say, ’m still not really used to working with other huntsmen in the field.” 

Clover glances at him out of the corner of his eye, mentally jumping hurdles in an attempt to figure out what the best route to steer this conversation in would be. He decides to tread lightly--nothing too personal. “But you were on a team before, weren’t you?” he asks, as though he doesn’t already know. That should be safe. 

Qrow sighs softly and his gaze darts to the ground.

_Fuck_. 

Just kill him already.

“Long time ago…” Qrow’s voice comes out sounding gruffer than usual, “I’ve just found working alone tends to be for the best.” 

Clover’s heart constricts in his chest. What is he supposed to do?! He’s already upset Qrow (twice, now!), how is he supposed to avoid doing it again?! He doesn’t want him to shut himself off from the Ace Ops just because Clover can’t stop sticking his foot in his mouth! Should he comfort him? He seems like he needs comfort. Fuck, he has to respond. What can he say?!

“Well, _I_ think that’s a shame,” he blurts out, and immediately wants to punch himself. 

Fortunately, or unfortunately, he is saved from having to ruminate over his social missteps when Qrow suddenly pitches forward, his foot catching on the uneven terrain of the cave floor underneath them. 

Clover dives after him, seizing him by one arm and grunting with the unexpected strain of having to pull his partner back to his feet, then moves one hand to clasp his shoulder and make sure he’s steady. He is unsure if he has his skill or his semblance to thank for the feat, but he is grateful nonetheless to whichever it is. 

He determinedly _does not_ think about how this is the second time today that he has gotten the opportunity to hold Qrow close. Because that would be weird. 

Once Qrow is standing again, they stare at each other for what feels like a long time, but is probably only a split-second. Clover feels like tiny nevermores are making a mess of his insides the longer he looks into Qrow’s eyes. 

Then, those incredibly nice-looking eyes narrow into a slight glare and Qrow takes a firm step back. Rather than think about what he’s messed up this time, Clover decides that now would be a perfect time to report in to his team. 

“Alpha, here. Give me an update.” 

Qrow falls into step behind him as they proceed forward. Once again, the minutes pass mostly in silence but for the intermittent interruptions of their comms. Unlike Squads Bravo and Charlie, they see no sign of any sentinels or the target itself, but Clover has a feeling that they will soon enough. 

His comm buzzes in his ear and makes a soft beeping noise, a signal that someone is contacting him through the Ace Ops’ private channel. Clover is about to answer aloud, but stops when a quiet series of taps and drags echoes down the line. It takes him a second to realize he’s being spoken to through Morse code. His heart starts racing. They almost never use Morse code in the field. Has something gone wrong? 

He listens closely.

_“ .... --- .-- … / -.-- --- ..- .-. / -... .. .-. -.._ “

_HOWS YOUR BIRD_

He takes a deep breath in and steadily lets it out through his nose. Now is not the time to figure out if it’s possible to throttle someone through a comm line. Instead, he tries to discreetly raise a hand to his ear and respond:

_“ .. -- / --. --- .. -. --. / - --- / ..-. .. .-. . / -.-- --- ..- “_

_IM GOING TO FIRE YOU_

“Who are we firing?” 

Clover startles, whipping his head around to look at Qrow. The other man stares impassively at him, a single eyebrow raised. Clover swallows hard because _oh no, he’s hot_. “Nobody. Well, Elm, probably.” 

“What did she do?” Qrow asks, quickening his pace half a step until he is walking shoulder-to-shoulder with Clover again.

“Fooling around on comms during a mission. Don’t worry about it.” Clover stops walking, turning to face Qrow, who takes the hint and also comes to a halt. “How do you know Morse code?”

Qrow shrugs, folding his arms over his chest. “Just a useful skill for a huntsman to have, isn’t it?”

Clover scrutinizes Qrow for a long moment, detecting that there’s something more to that. Unfortunately, though, he’s not Robyn, and he doesn’t know Qrow well enough yet to pick up on any tells he may have, so he just nods and they continue walking.

“Must’ve been something _real_ interesting,” Qrow says after a few more minutes spent in silence, “to get you to blush like that.” 

Clover’s steps falter. His face grows hot as he stares after Qrow’s retreating back.

_Fuck._

He isn’t allowed to stew in his embarrassment for long, as their target suddenly phases through the cavern wall and appears right in front of them. Before Clover can even react, Qrow has already drawn his weapon and started shooting one-handed at the geist. 

While Qrow keeps the creature busy, Clover shakes himself out of his stupor and speaks into his comm, “This is Alpha! We’ve engaged the target!” He pulls Kingfisher from his belt. “All squads head towards our position!” He extends the pole, and casts out the line, hoping to catch the geist by its ribs and haul it in before it can reach any materials to build a body out of. Unfortunately, his shot misses, the hook clattering to the ground just as the target darts into a giant chunk of ice sitting on the cavern floor. 

Pieces of rock and ice begin to float into the air around them, pulled unrelentingly into the geist’s orbit. Clover curses under his breath and rushes forward, hoping to snag the geist and pull it out of its half-formed body before it can finish construction….

...Only to hear Qrow’s panic-filled voice echo from behind him, “Wait, _stop_!”

Clover looks up just in time to see a large metal beam tumble from the ceiling above. He raises his arms and takes a stumbling step back as it crashes into the ground just a few feet in front of him. 

When the dust settles, he peers down into the hole it had made, taking the target with it.

_Dammit._

He knows for certain that that beam would’ve done some serious damage if not for Qrow’s warning. He probably wouldn’t have died, but he certainly would’ve been out of commission for more than a little while. 

Still, the target got away, and as Qrow runs to stand beside him, he reports in to the rest of the teams, “Target escaped. Last seen headed east.”

He shoots a sideways glance at Qrow, who is staring contemplatively down into the chasm, a strange light in his eyes that Clover can’t quite comprehend.

He looks back into the seemingly-bottomless darkness. Kicks a medium-sized stone into the newly-made pit in an attempt to get a rough estimate of how deep it goes. “Thanks for the call-out,” he says, suddenly remembering that he should probably express his gratitude toward Qrow for saving him an awful lot of injured leave. He props a hand on his hip and shifts his weight as the rock lands below. “That could’ve been bad.”

Qrow sighs heavily next to him, “I wouldn’t thank me….”

Clover is taken aback at the sheer amount of self-loathing and shame loaded into those four little words. He looks at Qrow. The other man is firmly avoiding his gaze, and the strange quality that Clover had noticed in his eyes earlier now registers in the back of his mind as _guilt_. 

This… was not the Qrow Branwen that Clover had thought he’d be dealing with. Just a few hours ago, he couldn’t fathom a world in which such a famous huntsman would be anything less than confident and secure in himself, but it is becoming increasingly clear that that assumption couldn’t have been more wrong, as the intense self-contempt Clover hears seems to settle within a well-worn place in Qrow’s face and voice. 

Qrow angles his upper body away a bit more so Clover can no longer see his expression. “My semblance brings Misfortune. Sometimes… I can’t keep it under control.” His voice gets weaker at the end of the sentence. His fists clench weakly at his sides. 

Clover’s chest seizes with some unnamed emotion. 

_Stupid, stupid, stupid_ . Of course Qrow had been upset this morning--his semblance was literally _bad luck_ and here Clover had been, walking around with a bunch of good luck charms and making luck-based puns. 

Reviewing the events of the past hours, more and more pieces fall into place. Qrow’s sudden shift in mood from playful to downtrodden after they’d run into each other, how he’d repeatedly downplayed his hurt feelings as “dramatics,” the way he’d said on the airship that he “couldn’t blame” Clover for--for what? 

He remembers the way Qrow had gestured to his ensemble earlier. His world tilts on its axis.

Oh, _Brothers_ , Qrow thought that Clover already knew his semblance and had been wearing all of his charms as some sort of twisted _precautionary measure_ . To ward off _him_. A human person with thoughts and feelings. 

_Stupid, stupid, so stupid._

He shakes his brain’s attempts at self-punishment away. What’s more important at the moment is that he now knows what’s wrong, and that he can fix it, and Clover decides in this moment, a million thoughts running through his head, that he no longer cares about the other Ace Ops’ teasing. If hanging around Qrow from here on out is what it will take to boost this gorgeous man’s self-confidence, then that’s what Clover will do. 

“That so?” Clover asks, as though he hasn’t been rethinking every single one of their interactions up to this point. When Qrow turns to look at him, eyes wide with shock, having obviously expected a far worse reaction, Clover flashes him the most reassuring smile in his repertoire (and that’s saying something, since he has a lot of reassuring smiles saved up at this point). “Well, hey,” he says, purposefully making a show of glancing casually at his scroll’s screen and extending Kingfisher, “don’t beat yourself up about it.” 

(He hopes desperately that this remark comes off as encouraging, rather than callous.)

He pulls down what’s left of the metal beam that had almost crushed him, resulting in a small-scale landslide that just-so-happens to give them a way down with which to follow the target.

He turns to face Qrow, making direct eye contact with the other man, who seems to have frozen in place.

And hey.

“My semblance is _good_ fortune….”

If he can get in a little flirting _while_ he’s hanging around the aforementioned gorgeous man?

“...lucky you, huh?” He gives the other a wink as he speaks. Qrow’s eyes widen. Clover raises his eyebrows and turns away, watching Qrow until the last possible moment.

Well, that’s neither here nor there. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go! Only one chapter left in this part of the series! I'm glad everyone seems to be liking it so far, and I'm so, so thankful to those of you who have been so kind and supportive in the comments. You're all amazing! 
> 
> Lots of love, fair game rights <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A post-mission lunch break leads to... more mockery.
> 
> Clover is going to fire every single one of his teammates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry for the slight delay in getting this chapter out, I spent the majority of yesterday moving back into my dorm room and the rest of it hanging out with my friends that I haven't seen in a month, so I didn't really have time to post. Hopefully this chapter makes up for it, though!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy the last chapter in this first installment of the series! Subsequent installments will be posted whenever I find time to write them, which may be sporadic now that classes have started back up again. 
> 
> Please leave kudos and comments if you're able!!!! You guys have all been so amazing throughout this journey and I could not appreciate you more!

Clover is ambushed the moment he steps foot into the mess hall after the mission debrief. This time, he is fully prepared for Elm’s attack, and he ducks under her attempt at wrapping one of her well-muscled arms around his neck. 

“Aw, come on, captain! I was only going to mess up your hair a little!” Elm cries exuberantly, apparently elated at this turn of events. She is always excited when Clover plays along with her roughhousing. 

“Sorry, Elm,” Clover says, getting in line for some of whatever they’re serving today. He’d cook if he weren’t so wiped from the mission, but he supposes that he’ll have to settle for food from the canteen just this once. “I’m afraid that I’d like to keep my hair as it is for right now.”

He accepts a tray of some sort of hearty stew and a chunk of bread, pleased. He’d personally signed off on the directive to encourage the kitchen staff to serve more hot meals, and he’s glad to see that the order is being followed. The lower-ranking soldiers certainly deserve it. 

Elm laughs, boxing him on the shoulder with so much force that, had he not been ready for it, Clover likely would’ve dropped his newly-acquired food. “Why, captain!” she shouts as they head in the direction of the table where the rest of the Ace Ops are sitting, “Are you trying to look nice for someone? Has some _ little birdie _ caught your eye?” 

Clover rolls his eyes as they settle next to each other on one of the benches. Across from them, Vine speaks, “I believe Huntsman Branwen has captured the captain’s attention, Elm. I was under the impression that you already knew this.” 

“And  _ I _ ,” Clover cuts Elm off before she can say something stupid that will stack more disciplinary action on top of her ever-growing pile, “was under the impression that my subordinates had a bit more tact and a  _ lot  _ more sense, but I suppose that I was wrong. Especially considering that stunt you pulled during the mission today,  _ Elm _ .”

Harriet and Marrow exchange a long suffering look from where they sit beside Vine. Harriet leans an elbow on the table and props her chin in her palm, half-heartedly stirring around her stew with the other hand. “Are you guys really  _ still  _ talking about this? I already told you, I have no desire to poke into my coworkers' personal lives.” 

Elm powers on, disregarding Harriet’s words, “Aw, lighten up, captain! I feel like you should be celebrating! After all,” she winks with all the subtlety of a raging Megoliath, “you got to spend the whole mission today with your pretty bird, didn’t you? Not to mention whatever was going on in the hall this morning….” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. 

Clover sighs, “If you could  _ please  _ refrain from referring to Qrow as a ‘pretty bird’ or whatever else, I don’t think he’d be too happy if he heard you saying that.” 

Marrow perks up next to Harriet, “Qrow?”

“Ha!” Elm slams her fists down onto the table, rattling everyone’s dishes. “Seems like  _ someone  _ is on a  _ first-name-basis _ !” 

Is it too late to take his food back to his quarters? Probably. That would likely be an admission of guilt in his teammates’ eyes. Instead, Clover raises his chin in challenge, narrowing his eyes at Elm. “I’ll have you know that Qrow  _ requested  _ that we  _ all  _ call him by his first name. I simply have enough respect for him to abide by that.” He may have resolved to get closer to the other man, but he doesn’t need his teammates to know that right away. That will just lead them to start harassing Qrow. 

“Seems like you’re doing a little more than ‘respecting’ him, Clover,” Marrow states, tail wagging behind him. 

Clover scowls at him, feeling betrayed, “What ever happened to not acting like kids, Marrow?” 

Marrow shrugs, leaning precariously into the open space where the back of the table’s bench would be, if it had one. He crosses his arms casually behind his head and closes his eyes. “Hey, the way I see it, if everyone’s dog-piling onto you instead of me, for once? That’s a good thing. Besides,” he sighs, “that was before I knew that you had an actual, real crush on the dude. I thought you just wanted to bone him.” 

At this, Clover swears that he can actually  _ feel  _ a few circuits in his brain all frying at once. He resolutely ignores any thoughts of “boning” Qrow, as well as the incessant laughter coming from Elm and Vine’s (faux-?)confused inquiries as to what exactly “bone” is a euphemism for, instead choosing to focus on Marrow, who is still lounging across from him. 

He snarls at the faunus, “ _ Marrow _ . Need I remind you that I am your  _ commanding officer _ and that I am  _ more than willing  _ to issue disciplinary if I feel it’s necessary? And that is  _ incredibly  _ disrespectful to Qrow, as well as myself.” 

Marrow straightens immediately and crosses his arms in a pout, “Aw, come on, Clover, I was just kidding. You did the same thing to me a few months ago when I was into that rabbit girl from Menagerie.”

That… was fair. But still, Qrow would probably be all kinds of upset and embarrassed if he heard that the people who were supposed to be his teammates for the foreseeable future were all making inappropriate jokes about him. 

Harriet groans loudly, dropping her head into her hands, “Can we please stop talking about this? The guy probably isn’t even gay.” 

Clover’s heart skips a beat. A strange sense of something that feels very much like panic floods his veins. “Really, you don’t think so?” He leans toward Harriet, aware that something weird is probably going on with his face, but unable to find it within himself to care.

Harriet backs away as much as she is able to while staying seated on the bench. “Uh.”

“I’d imagine that it would be simple enough to ask General Ironwood whether Huntsman Branwen is interested in acquiring a same-sex partner or not,” Vine folds his arms placidly onto the table, gaze contemplative, “considering their apparent long history. We may even be able to present our inquiries to some of the children that Huntsman Branwen brought with him. It is my understanding that a Miss ‘Ruby’ and Miss ‘Yang’ are related to him in some way, if the intel Elm and I received from Miss Valkyrie, Mister Arc, and Mister Ren while wandering the mines today is correct.”

Clover’s brain takes a long second to catch up to all of that. Then it rewinds.

“Hold on!” He interjects with no small amount of alarm. “What do you mean by ‘ _ we _ ’?” 

Elm grins a little too widely. It’s extremely off-putting. “Isn’t it obvious?!” she yells. Loudly. 

Several heads turn in their direction.

“We’re going to help you get your man!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go! A return to the roots of this story, which was always meant to be the Ace Ops torturing poor Clover (but really, how bad can you feel for the guy who's currently in the process of snagging a date with Qrow?). I hope you all enjoyed and I love you guys so much!
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING! 
> 
> (That Clover/Qrow/Elm story will be going up in a couple of hours, too, by the way! I have a few errands to run first, but then it's full steam ahead!)

**Author's Note:**

> So, that was the first chapter! I hope you liked it and that it made your day a little brighter :)
> 
> The first installment is already completely finished minus some light editing. Stuff from here on out will probably be formatted as oneshots rather than chaptered fics, but I wanted this first part to be a bit longer and explore the very beginnings of our boys' relationship, with particular emphasis on Clover being a Secret Gay Disaster. Is that actually my headcanon for the show? Nah. Is that what this fic turned into? Absolutely.
> 
> Anyway, I'm currently deciding whether I want to post one chapter everyday for the next four days to finish this story up or if I want to post every other day. If anyone has any opinions on that, I'd be glad to hear them.
> 
> But yeah, hope you had fun! I promise my next notes won't be so long, I just had a lot to say in these first ones.
> 
> My Tumblr: mooksie01.tumblr.com   
> (fair warning, it's kinda a mess!)


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